


The Prince in a High Tower

by shirogiku



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dragons, Gen, Happy Ending, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7381609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Thomas accidentally tames a dragon, Miranda does a little (a lot of) magic, Jack is still a fashion icon, and Silver just wants to steal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince in a High Tower

Once upon a time, there lived a prince who loved nothing better than to design castles in the sky. He never got around to finding the right sort of masons and so on, but his designs were very lofty indeed. He was not a rebel, exactly. but he always seemed to have these Ideas about how things should be done.

His royal father was none too pleased with him, and it just so happened that the kingdom had a leftover princess’s tower from a darker age. It had been sitting empty as if waiting especially for him.

As far as punishments went, this one had _not_ been thought through.

Far from growing restless or despondent, the Prince was enjoying the new peace and quiet beyond measure. There wasn’t a courtier around for miles and miles - none would walk through the barren land covered with shards of broken glass. The tower had a vast library, if somewhat outdated. Finally, he could work without constant interruptions. He even made friends with a witch, who would fly up to him on her broomstick and bring him dinner, water the potted plants and read with him.

This continued for several years.

There is a rule that when a tower acquires a prince or a princess, it will necessarily attract a dragon sooner or later. So it came as no surprise to anybody but the Prince himself that the briars choking the cold stone should be replaced by a black dragon’s tail. As he coughed from the smoke pouring into his study, the beast let out a mighty roar, which shook the very foundations of his tower.

‘That was very nice,’ the Prince told the curious grey-green eye politely. ‘But I haven’t quite caught your name, I’m afraid. Could you please repeat it?’

The dragon paused and roared again, with yet more menace, and power about to be unleashed.

The Prince was puzzled as to how to receive such a guest. ‘Would you like me to read to you?’ he asked at length. ‘I have just got started on my favourite book again...’

And read to the dragon he did, night after night. The roaring quieted, and the flames looked more and more like fireworks rather than explosions. Once you get past the size, dragons are a lot like cats, even if their half-dead mice is stolen sheep.

The Witch was greatly amused and mystified by the strange fellowship, but it wasn't as if she was complaining. The Dragon did not mind if she picked up his shedded scales for her potions; she polished his magnificent golden- and bronze-hued horns and brushed his mane.

Though she did warn the Prince that the moment the Dragon started answering to a name, they would never be rid of each other.

‘James’ is lovely name if you ask me,’ was the Prince’s reply. ‘And he has chosen it himself too!'

‘Never mind,’ she replied in resignation. ‘Lamb stew?’ It seemed as if they had always been so domestic, the three of them.

‘All this is very well,’ the Prince said one day. ‘But could you please turn me into a dragon? I _so_ long to fly!’

‘Wouldn’t you rather _James_ became a human for you?’

‘Oh no, never in the world! He is perfect as he is!’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she grumbled. Her spellbooks wouldn’t be of much help.

After much consideration, she bade the Dragon to fetch her three different ingredients, without telling him what they were for.

The first was thirteen dragon scales, given away willingly, which wasn't a problem. The second was a flame that had been burning for a hundred years, which was a lot more like a traditional quest.

The Dragon flew over the seven seas, hunting high and low through ancient ruins until chancing upon an island where a famous sorceress used to live. Since her times, it had become a smugglers’ den, and the thing that turned men into pigs was mostly liquor these days.

‘That useless old thing?’ scoffed their supposed Queen. Shrewdly. ‘It was in the fort the last time I saw it.’

The Dragon had expected a catch. What he found there was a whole pack of feral dragons, all of them smaller than him but just as vicious. He would challenge their leader, but one always had to have a backup plan.

As his shadow slid over the town, he spotted a commotion in the marketplace. A thief had been caught in a pair of boots that weren’t his own, and the people couldn’t make up their minds which part of him to cut off.

The Dragon plucked him out of their midst, boots and all. ‘You are the worst thief I have ever laid eyes on,’ he informed the hapless creature. ‘But you’ll do.’

‘Just as you say, Your Scaliness,’ the Thief uttered, faint with terror. ‘Though actually, I happen to be a very _good_ thief!’ He paused. ‘You’re not from around here, are you? I haven’t stolen anything from you, have I?’

‘You shall steal something _for_ me, little boot-snatcher.’

It wasn’t as if the Thief had many other options.

He entered the fort through the secret tunnels - and the sight of all the treasure simply lying around took his breath away. The job, the danger, all was forgotten as he scooped up handfuls of coin, strung up rings on his fingers and hung pearls around his neck.

‘Emeralds _and_ rubies?’ protested a disembodied voice coming from everywhere at once. ‘Pick one, will you? And don't get me started on those pearls with that coat, there is only so much my delicate sense of fashion can take lying down.’

The gleam and glitter shifted like the sand, a dragon’s snout slowly emerging from the biggest pile. Atop the snout were perched two matching stained glass windows, painstakingly wired together into a pair of spectacles.

It was _that_ sort of day - interminable, with a strong change of an untimely demise. ‘Ha, thank you for the fashion advice!’ The Thief was beginning to think that dealing with dragons was more trouble than their gold was worth.

‘You are _most_ welcome.’ The dragon yawned. His teeth weren’t very impressive, to be perfectly honest, but he kept them in impressive order. ‘I am still going to kill you, though.’

‘No, you’re not.’ A girl’s hand shot out and grabbed the Thief by the elbow, yanking him backwards. ‘He is my new servant, and I asked him to find the ring I lost here the other night.’ She was dragging him towards a hidden door, hastily removing the plunder. ‘Such a silly man, he _always_ overdoes it.’

‘Does he now?’ The dragon scrutinised them over the top of his spectacles. ‘Since when do you have servants and what do you pay them?’

‘Fanning the flames is hard work, _mon cher_. _If_ you have flames.’ With that, she vanished behind the safety of the wall.

‘Ouch, harsh!’ the Thief admired. ‘I’m so happy to see you!’ They went back some way, and he had given her up for roasted and eaten. ‘You’ve saved my life.’

‘I didn’t do it for you,’ she replied testily. ‘I did it because I know what you’re after.’ He patted his pockets, which jingled pleasantly. ‘And I'll help you get it. The flame will die without me-'

'-and you without the flame,' he realised.

They hurried along before the dragon with the spectacles also pieced it together.

Outside, the sea was the colour of dragon’s blood. If the fight continued for another round, the Thief would be one more employer down. But all such considerations fled his mind in the face of a red dragon coming right at them.

‘Stop panicking!’ the Flame Keeper hissed at him. ‘Max _knows_ her.’

He hadn’t even been aware that there was a her in the pack, so he believed it. The red dragon lifted them up in her sharp claws and carried them out of the harm’s way, ignoring the Thief’s attempts at small talk.

Three days and three nights he and the Flame Keeper bobbed along in their boat, wondering what to do next. Finally, the Dragon dropped onto the nearest islet, looking more dead than alive. Before they could formulate a plan, he snatched the brazier from them, but didn’t get very far with it before limping back.

The Thief glanced at the Flame Keeper nervously. ‘So, how do you nurse a sick dragon?’

‘Exactly like you burgle them - without stopping to think what the hell you’re doing.’

By luck or magic, the sky turned to fog, concealing them from their pursuers. As soon as some strength had returned to the Dragon’s limbs, they were off. He would have left them behind again, but he couldn’t manage to do everything at once. So he stayed on his guard, the Flame Keeper tended to the flames, and the Thief told tavern anecdotes.

‘Where does all this broken glass come from?’ the Flame Keeper wondered as the tower appeared on the horizon.

‘Dreams and ambitions,’ the Dragon answered.

‘Any of them yours?’

He would not say.

The Prince and the Witch were appalled at the state of him, but glad for more company. However, the third ingredient remained to be found, and it was the trickiest: the silence of a siren. The Dragon clawed at the cauldron thinking that the Witch kept sending him on fool’s errands on purpose.

The Thief looked at the Flame Keeper. ‘Do you regret leaving without proper goodbyes?’ She glared at him wordlessly. ‘You’re welcome, everyone!’ He grinned at the Witch. ‘What are you brewing?’

‘The death of me,’ the Dragon grumbled, feigning disinterest.

The potion was complete overnight. The Prince peered out of his window dubiously. ‘I would have to leave the tower?’

‘Yes, my dear,’ the Witch said gently. ‘Or things might get awkward with your books.’

‘Well, it _is_ an important step.’ He didn’t mind the audience, but he was also relieved that the Dragon should be asleep. ‘Which I am about to take.’ He climbed out and let the Witch carry him down.

On him, the scales went from black to charcoal to dusky grey. He wobbled on all fours, flapping his wings comically before setting off to prod the Dragon with his stubby horns.

The Thief and the Flame Keeper exchanged looks, already counting the scales that the happy new flier wouldn’t mind contributing to a new enterprise.

The Witch cleared her throat. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

The Flame Keeper picked up the brazier possessively. The Thief offered the Witch a share of the future profits.

‘The tea,’ she went on. ‘It must have gone colder than these stones.’

And so, by and by, they sorted things out.

They had many other adventures and stole from many other hoards, and nothing _really_ bad ever happened to them again. The glass shards turned into flowers, and the flowers lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing fairy tale aus of everything, tell me what you think <3


End file.
